BEIJING: A woman turns her torso one way, flings her gaze the other, and says in a sultry voice: “Gan ma?” – what do you want?
The video clip, in which she teaches others how to flirt by twisting their bodies into an X-shape, went viral in January.
It was parodied across Chinese social media – and even spoofed by Singaporean comedian Mr Brown.
The virality shone a spotlight on her multi-million yuan business empire, triggering a backlash that led to its abrupt collapse.
The woman is Zhou Yuan, a self-styled “godmother of sexual intelligence”.
A former banker from Changsha city in central Hunan province, she is reportedly nearing 50, though her Barbie-doll persona – glossy black waves, Snow White complexion and heavy false eyelashes – makes her appear younger.
In one video, she is dressed as Cleopatra.
Zhou runs “Black-and-White Disruptive Sexual Intelligence Academy”, which offers a buffet of online and offline services aimed at women – starting with online courses costing less than 10 yuan (S$1.80) and moving progressively to more expensive services such as hands-on training in seduction techniques and therapy for sexual trauma.
She had been quietly selling courses since 2018, racking up total revenues of more than 24 million yuan, until the January viral video catapulted her into the public eye.
The backlash was swift. Critics accused her of vulgarity and of reducing women to objects designed to please men. Instead of learning how to flirt better, they argued, women should focus on becoming more capable and independent, earning their own keep and respect.
Her social media accounts were banned on Jan 22 by platforms in reaction to public response. On Jan 30, the authorities said they were suspending her businesses and placing her under investigation.
Supporters, however, rushed to her defence. Some said the lessons helped them feel more confident about their bodies and even repair relationships in which couples had drifted apart.
Commentators argue over one question: Do such courses give women agency, or take it away?
Detractors say they reinforce a backward idea – that women’s worth is measured by men’s approval and relationship success, and that a failing relationship must therefore reflect a woman’s inadequacy.
Supporters counter that women should have the right to decide what to do with their bodies, including using them to please men, if this helps them get what they want – whether it be love, attention or stability.
Some critics have been unnecessarily harsh on Zhou’s women customers, dismissing them as conniving mistresses or foolish women debasing themselves for men. This ignores an unfortunate economic reality.
In China, where men still command disproportionately more economic resources, the adage “being capable is no match for marrying well” remains painfully relevant to some women with fewer options.
In a slowing economy, marked by fragile job security and flimsy social safety nets, finding a high-earning male partner can look like a shortcut, or even the only route, to a better life.
Given the choice, who would not prefer to stand on their own feet? Who are we to judge those who feel they cannot?
There is nothing inherently wrong with women wanting to feel sexy, curious or confident about their own bodies. Sexual liberation should include the freedom to explore desire without shame.
Nor is it outrageous for women to spend ridiculous amounts of money on things that make them feel good, even if the worth is debatable. People routinely pay far more for sports cars and luxurious spa retreats.
The harder question is whether Zhou truly empowers women.
Former staff have told reporters that the academy amplifies anxiety about ageing bodies and failing marriages to nudge customers towards ever more expensive services.
Beyond courses, Zhou’s business empire extended into medical procedures and counselling services, by therapists with dubious qualifications.
Also troubling is the overly simplistic message beneath the marketing: that if a man walks away, it is because the woman is not sexy enough. This puts the blame unfairly on women when relationships fall apart – even though the causes are often complex.
Like much of the knowledge-paywall industry, Zhou’s courses follow a familiar logic – cheap entry products, progressively pricier upgrades, and promises of transformation always just one tier away.
On the surface, this looks like empowerment. Dig deeper, and it becomes an industrialised system that feeds on insecurity, turning anxiety into repeat purchases of services that could potentially be harmful when provided by unqualified staff – something regulators can no longer ignore.
Virality is a double-edged sword. For businesses built on emotional grey zones, some virality is necessary to fuel growth, but too much can be fatal.
Zhou is neither a crusader for sexual liberation nor a corrupter of women’s values; she is an unscrupulous businesswoman who capitalises on women’s vulnerabilities.
In trying to game the male gaze, she is gamed by society’s gaze. - The Straits Times/ANN
